


One Simple Game of Pool

by MimiWritesHerFandoms



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, Shameless Smut, Smut, bucky barnes smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 16:23:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15689052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimiWritesHerFandoms/pseuds/MimiWritesHerFandoms
Summary: You and Bucky play a game of pool. Strip pool.





	One Simple Game of Pool

 

The Avengers compound was, if anything, perfectly designed for every want and need. There was a gym for working out, a training room for sparring and fight training, a gun range, and a multitude of activities available for relaxing - from a swimming pool to a pool table.

Bucky’s favorite way to relax  was to shoot a couple of games of pool. You’d find him in there all the time, usually playing against someone - Clint was a favorite - or, if he couldn’t find anyone willing to lose to him, by himself. You tried to interest him in movies, or video games, but he swore that wasn’t relaxing; he preferred to play pool.

Any time the team returned from a mission, you could count on Bucky heading straight for the game room, a giant ballroom sized room with two pool tables, a couple of air hockey tables, the aforementioned video game consoles with a bank of couches against one wall, and just about every board game imaginable. He’d clean up, maybe stop long enough to press a kiss to the top of your head, then he’d disappear for a couple of hours. He said it was his way of winding down. You’d tried to convince him there were other ways he could relax, but he’d just chuckle and shake his head.

This last mission had been particularly trying, and unfortunately, you and Bucky had argued, a lot. Nothing new when it came to you being in the field - Bucky hated it and you didn’t. It was an argument he wasn’t going to win and it pissed him off. He’d strode off the quinjet the second the back panel had hit the floor and you hadn’t seen him since.

You waited almost two hours before you went looking for him. The compound was quiet, not only was it late, but the team was exhausted after being in the field for more than a week. Everyone had vanished the minute you had gotten home, most likely to sleep, or spend time with their significant others. Everyone that was except you and Bucky.

He was alone in the game room, right where you’d expected to find him, leaning over the pool table, pool cue in hand. You watched him as he ran the table, not missing a shot. He was racking the balls for another game when you stepped into the light. Bucky watched as you approached, the pool cue in one hand, the small cube of blue chalk in the other. You stopped in front of him, rose up on your toes and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Hi.” You gave him a tentative smile.

“Hi,” he responded, watching you warily.

You really hated it when the two of you fought, both of you too stubborn to give in, or admit defeat, or even apologize if necessary.

You decided to suck it up this time and extend the olive branch. “Why don’t you come to bed?” you murmured, your arms sliding around his waist.

“I thought you were mad at me,” he said, one corner of his mouth tipping up in a lopsided grin.

“Not anymore than you are with me,” you shrugged.

“You are just so damn stubborn,” Bucky muttered, shaking his head.

“And you’re not?” you huffed, taking a step back. God, he knew how to get a rise out of you. Not that he was trying to, you were just always ready for a fight.

“Guess that’s why we’re perfect for each other,” he chuckled.

“You are so infuriating,” you grumbled, crossing your arms. “On second thought, you can stay down here by yourself. I’m happy to go to bed alone.” You emphasized the word ‘alone’ by taking a step towards the door, looking pointedly at the super soldier. 

“Come on, doll,” he sighed. “Let’s call a truce, okay? We both know that neither one of us is going to win this argument. Beside, you know you can’t stay mad at me.” He ran a hand through his hair, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “How about we play a game of pool?”

“What?” You were confused and irritated. He wasn’t wrong, you couldn’t stay mad at him, and it bugged you to no end that he knew that. And why did he suddenly want to play a game of pool?

Bucky closed the distance between the two of you, the scent of the soap he’d showered with washing over you. “One simple game of pool.”

“One simple game of pool?” you repeated. “What’s the catch?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Okay, so it’s strip pool. Every time I sink a ball, you take off an article of clothing.”

You narrowed your eyes. “So, this is just a ploy to get me out of my clothes?”

“Basically, yeah,” Bucky laughed.

“And you don’t think you’ll be taking off any clothes?” you asked.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he shook his head, “I don’t lose.” He pointed at the table, staring at you with those piercing blue eyes. “What do you say?”

You shrugged. “Why not?” You pushed the sleeves of your t-shirt up past your elbows. “I haven’t kicked your ass in a long time.” Both you and Bucky were pretty good at pool, but you rarely played each other - you were too competitive. It had been months since the two of you had played a serious game. 

Bucky laughed and shook his head. He tossed a pool cue to you, and to your surprise, he let you go first. You made the break, but none of the balls fell into any of the pockets. He held his cue casually in his metal hand as he surveyed the table, walking slowly around it. He leaned over, one leg up, and gracefully lined up his shot. He was smiling widely even before the solid red ball fell into the pocket.

“You’re first,” he grinned. “Take it off.”

You glared at him, balancing with one hand on the table, and yanked off first one shoe, then the other. Without saying a word, Bucky set up his next shot. It rolled easily into the side pocket, so you shucked off your socks.

“Good, the boring stuff is out of the way,” Bucky said.

His next shot missed and you couldn’t help but give him a quick smile as you picked up your pool cue. Bucky just shrugged and leaned against the wall, watching you.

The shot was a simple one, just a few inches to the pocket. It dropped in easily. You smirked at Bucky as he kicked off his boots, and apparently in an effort to catch up with you, his socks as well. Another successful shot from you and he removed the sweatshirt he was wearing. Unfortunately, that was the last of his clothing to be removed for a while.

Bucky’s next shot landed easily, divesting you of the long sleeved henley you were wearing, but neither of you were able to sink many shots after that; you were too busy laughing and drinking from the bottles of beer Bucky had pulled from the fridge in the corner. He was also busy trying to distract you; he’d lightly touch the middle of your back, or stand so close that you could feel his breath on your shoulders, not to mention how he kept placing small kisses to the side of your head, your cheek, or your neck. You could barely concentrate on anything other than Bucky’s hot hands touching your cool skin, or the way his lips felt on your neck. You were ready to ditch this game and move on to other activities.

Bucky finally managed to sink another ball, so you were now in nothing but your underwear, your bra, and a black tank top, while he was still fully clothed, aside from his bare feet and lack of a sweatshirt. If you stood any chance of winning this crazy, sexually charged game, you were going to have to start playing dirty.

Bucky flashed you a cocky grin as he walked around the table to set up his next shot. You leaned against the table with one hip, taking note of the way his eyes kept jumping from you to the table. You took a long drink from the bottle in your hand, wrapping your lips around it and tilting your head back, Bucky’s eyes glued to you the entire time. He cleared his throat and attempted to concentrate on his next shot. He missed.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath. He grabbed his own beer and finished it in one swallow.

“What’s the matter, baby?” you purred, sliding past him, dragging your fingers across his stomach as you walked down the length of the table. “Am I distracting you?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “No,” he whispered gruffly. “Just take your shot.”

You turned your back on Bucky. You had a perfectly good shot on the other side of the table, but you opted to take the more difficult shot, the one that allowed you to bend over the table, stretching so you were standing on one bare foot and your ass was in the air. You didn’t have to see Bucky to know how you were affecting him.

You were going to miss the shot, you were sure of it, but that was fine, because you weren’t trying to make it, you were trying to get a rise out of Bucky. Literally. So, when your intended target rolled slowly into the pocket, you couldn’t help the startled gasp you let loose or the fact that you jumped up and down a little. When you turned around, Bucky was rubbing a hand over the back of his neck and grimacing.

“Lose the shirt, pal,” you chirped.

Bucky leaned his pool stick against the wall and tugged off his t-shirt. He threw it at you, catching you off guard. You caught it, barely, smiled, and tossed it into the pile with your clothes, then you hurried around the table to take your next shot.

“You’re never going to make it,” he mumbled. You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he slowly walked around the table, whistling an unrecognizable tune quietly to himself as he made his way toward you. He came to a stop right behind you and rested his hands on the table, one on either side of your hips. He pressed himself against your back and leaned into you.

You closed your eyes and dropped your head, your chin resting on your chest. “Bucky, knock it off,” you muttered.

“What’s the matter, doll?” he whispered. “Am I distracting you?”

“No,” you snapped, shaking your head and blowing out an irritated breath.

“Well, then, don’t miss,” he whispered huskily in your ear. He put his hand on your waist, dragging your tank top up so he could rest his fingers on the bare skin in the middle of your back. His long fingers were splayed across your back, sending a tingle down your spine.

You bit back a moan, brought the pool stick up slowly, dragging it between your fingers, then you shot it forward and connected with the cue ball. It rolled across the table, missing its target, careening off the far side, and rolling to a stop. Bucky’s laughter vibrated through your body.

“My turn,” he murmured. Except he didn’t move away from you, instead he pressed himself tighter against you and put his hands over yours on the pool cue. You could feel his breath on your neck as you watched his hands over yours, guiding you like a puppet as he lined up his shot. The cue ball rolled smoothly across the table and hit the ball, sending it into the pocket.

Bucky released his hold on your hands and returned them to your waist. He slid them under your tank top and pushed it up and over your head. You let it fall to the floor as he cupped your breasts in his hands, his lips roaming over your shoulders. You leaned over the table, pressing your breasts into his hands, encouraging him as he kneaded and massaged them, lightly pinching the nipples through the thin lace of your bra. 

“You jerk,” you hissed as Bucky ground his hips against your ass, desire flooding you. “You’re cheating.”

Bucky laughed under his breath and took a step backward, leaving you panting and aching. Frustrated, you shot him a glare over your shoulder, but he seemed nonplussed by what he had done to you. He flashed you a sexy smirk as he strolled around the table, picked up his beer, and finished it off. He picked up his own pool stick, walked back to the table, and without even taking time to set up the shot, he downed another ball.

You rolled your eyes, reached behind your back, and unhooked your bra. You slipped it slowly down your arms, then you tossed it to Bucky. He caught it with one hand and let it dangle from one finger, the smirk still on his luscious, pink lips.

“Quit staring and take your shot,” you mumbled. “You’ve seen my boobs before.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy looking at them,” Bucky laughed. He stared at the table for a few seconds, contemplating his next shot, before leaning over and sinking the last ball. He stood up straight and shrugged, dropping his pool cue to the table. You couldn’t help but stare at him, the perfectly toned abs, the v disappearing into his low slung jeans, the edge of his underwear just visible above the belt line.

You tossed your own cue on the table and hooked your thumbs in the top of your underwear, but before you could pull them down, Bucky cleared his throat and shook his head.

“I’m going to take them off,” he said, the tone of his voice leaving no room for argument. “And I’m going to take my time.” As he talked, he walked around the table to stand in front of you. He pushed you backwards against the pool table, until you were just perched on the edge of it, staring up at him. He took hold of one side of the flimsy lace underwear you were wearing and twisted it around his metal fingers as his lips ghosted over your neck, along your jaw, and up to your lips. He caught them in his, kissing you deeply. His other hand was on your inner thigh, gently caressing it, his fingers slipping under the edge of your panties.

“Fuck, doll, you’re wet,” Bucky growled. He tugged the panties off, sliding them slowly down your legs and dropping them to the floor. He pushed your legs open and balanced you on his thigh, his arms around you, holding you as he kissed a trail down your chest.

You gasped as the rough denim rubbed against your clit and Bucky’s lips wrapped around your breast. “Oh, Jesus,” you moaned.

He bit the nipple, pulling it between his teeth, grabbed your ass, and pressed his leg into you. Heat shot through you, like an all-consuming wildfire. You ground yourself against his leg, the coil deep in the pit of your stomach rapidly tightening as the sensations moved through you.

You took hold of Bucky’s belt loops and tried to pull him closer, tried to unbutton his jeans, but he resisted, pushing your hands aways.

“Let me touch you,” you begged.

“I don’t think so, doll,” he chuckled. “Not just yet.” He lifted you up and set you in the middle of the table, shoving the remaining balls into the nearest pocket before he climbed up beside you and pushed you down, lying you along the length of the table. He assaulted your neck, leaving marks everywhere his lips touched. His hand was between your legs, his finger slipping carefully into you, teasing, persistent and purposeful. His mouth was everywhere - your breasts, your neck, your stomach, even your thighs - nothing off limits when it came to the pleasure he was doling out.

You managed to get a hand between your bodies, palming his hard length, still trapped inside his jeans, drawing a filthy moan from the man above you. You undid the button, then the zipper, finally sliding your hand past the waistband, grasping him through his soft cotton boxers.

Bucky eased a second finger inside of you, easily finding and massaging your g-spot, all while his thumb circled your clit, sending you into an unexpected tailspin as your body responded, every inch of you engulfed in pleasure. Your hand tightened on his cock as you came, his hips shooting forward as he ground against your hand.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he growled as he sat up, breaking your connection just long enough for him to pull of his remaining clothes. He was back over you in a heartbeat, biting at your lip, pulling it between his teeth as he positioned himself at your entrance and slammed into you with a low grunt.

You moaned, your legs coming up and wrapping around his waist, holding him tight against you as he pumped into you with short, tight bursts. Your hips shot up, meeting him thrust for thrust, the pace he was setting almost maniacal, pulling out and ramming back into you until you were gasping and moaning his name.

“Come on, doll,” Bucky growled. “Come for me.” He rose up on his knees and pulled one of your legs over his shoulder, holding your hips in place with one hand, thrusting deep, and massaging your clit with the other hand.

Seconds later you were coming again, your walls clenching around Bucky as you climaxed. He threw his head back, his own orgasm rocketing through him, every muscle tensing, his hands tight on your waist, holding you against him, his cock pulsing and twitching inside of you.

He dropped your leg and fell forward, catching himself with a hand on either side of your head. He leaned over and kissed you, soft and gentle, his tongue sliding carefully between your lips to explore your mouth. You sighed and smiled up at him.

Bucky rested his forehead against yours and returned your smile. “I love winning,” he whispered, the grin shifting into a cocky smirk.

You punched him lightly on the chest. “Jerk,” you giggled. “It’s not like I didn’t win, too.”

Bucky shook his head and burst out laughing. “You’re not wrong,” he teased. “What do you say we move this game to the bedroom?”

“Mmm, sounds like a good idea,” you whispered, pushing a hand through his dark brown locks. “And quickly, before Tony catches us.”

“Yeah, we’re in enough trouble after the mess we left in the kitchen,” Bucky muttered. “No sense making it worse.” He hopped off the table, scooped his jeans off the floor, and tossed you your clothes. “Let’s go.”

“Just so you know, I expect a rematch,” you said, yanking your shirt over your head.

“Why? So you can lose again?” Bucky chuckled.

The ball you threw at him just barely missed his head as he darted from the room.

 


End file.
